


Ashes

by savwritesthings



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Light Bondage, basically just a rambling fic on caroline's sexual relationship with cave johnson, caveline, could be considered, like if you squint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savwritesthings/pseuds/savwritesthings
Summary: She opens her mouth to speak -- To protest? To beg for more? She’s not exactly certain -- but he silences her. A gentle “shhh” brushed against her ear before his lips treat it to a gentle kiss. Her arms are trapped between them, in an awkward, but somehow perfect position to push him away. She doesn’t.





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> my first post on ao3! this is just a rambly little musing i wrote to explore the nature of Caroline's relationship with Cave Johnson while working on her characterization. hope you enjoy!!

It isn’t the first time Caroline’s found herself in this position.

For as cold as the halls of Aperture Laboratories usually are, Cave Johnson’s office is usually almost uncomfortably warm. Perhaps it has something to do with the space heater he keeps behind his desk. Or, perhaps it has something to do with the heated intensity in his gaze -- the overwhelming, burning zeal he possessed for the work.

In this moment, Caroline muses, it mostly has to do with the warmth of his hands on her hips and the heat of his breath on her neck.

She opens her mouth to speak -- To protest? To beg for more? She’s not exactly certain -- but he silences her. A gentle “shhh” brushed against her ear before his lips treat it to a gentle kiss. Her arms are trapped between them, in an awkward, but somehow perfect position to push him away. She doesn’t.

It isn’t the first time Caroline’s found herself pressed against his desk. It won’t be the last, either.

There’s an unmistakable heat radiating from him as he slips off her dress. She’s bound to get lost in it one of these days. She’s bound to burn.

His hands are everywhere, and hers are now rigid on his shoulders. This is the way it always goes -- She’s still for his consumption. She allows him to leave scorch marks on her neck, her belly, her hips… 

She allows him to guide her to her knees.

She allows him to silence her soft protests with rumbling reassurances. There’s a surge of pride in her when she hears “Good girl, Caroline,” and she wonders why she cares so much... Why she’d do anything to earn his praise.

And she’d do anything.

When he brings her off the floor his grip is almost too tight -- A madman clinging to the final scrap of his sanity, leaving bruises on her pale skin in the shape of his fingers. A whine of protest leaves her lips, and she shifts in his arms. He tells her to relax, and when she doesn’t, he slips the scarf from her neck to bind her wrists behind her back.

He likes it that way, he likes the control. The obedience. He’s under the impression that she likes it too, likes surrendering herself to him.

He’s wrong, but she never corrects him. His touch is all she’s ever wanted, and she’s not going to complain about how she gets it.

For a moment, he’s gentle with her. Even as he guides her into his lap, even as he slips inside of her. It doesn’t last long, but it ends with a soft kiss to her lips. She likes to imagine there’s love in there, even if she’s not entirely sure there is. A girl can dream, though… She needs that dream to cling to as his hand knots in her hair, tugging relentlessly as he slams into her. She needs to be able to dream that he loves her.

At least he always holds her when he’s finished with her. It’s comforting, to curl up in his arms, it helps her forget the bruises, still aching like burns in her skin. An uncomfortable shift seems to remind him of something, and a gentle hand trails down her arm. The scarf binding her wrists is released with a simple flick, floating gracefully to the floor. It was a gift. From him. Many years ago.

Her hands cautiously find their way to his chest, hesitating a moment at the pure heat radiating from him. She seems to be burning, too. For a moment, she wonders how long she can stay alight, or if eventually she’ll be reduced to ash.

Cave doesn’t seem to notice. All he manages before closing his eyes is a soft kiss to her forehead, and a gentle, half-whispered: “That’s my girl.”

Just as always, Caroline will light herself on fire to keep Cave Johnson warm.


End file.
